


Desire, at the end, was a malady, or a madness, or both

by MiserableLie95



Category: Morrissey (Musician), The Smiths
Genre: First Time, M/M, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 12:51:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8490535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiserableLie95/pseuds/MiserableLie95
Summary: In the documentary "The Importance of Being Morrissey", Morrissey states that the time he was most depressed in his life after his teenage years was when he was in The Smiths. This chapter explores the difficulties of loving a depressed lover, the upswings and downswings that come with it. TW: depression, negative feelings towards sex and sexuality.





	1. Chapter 1

"What are you doing?” Morrissey asked.

His voice was verging on hysteria in the quiet of Johnny’s kitchen. Johnny moved closer, impossibly closer, so that Morrissey could feel his breath against his skin. The singer couldn’t have moved even if he wanted to, he was helplessly pinned by the tender look in Johnny's eyes. 

“I’m living my life precisely as I want to,” Johnny informed him.

He tilted his face upwards, brushing his nose against Morrissey’s throat. He could feel the blush from Morrissey’s cheeks, and indulged the desire to move closer.

“I won’t cross any lines if you don’t want me to. I mean it,” Johnny said softly.

He met Morrissey’s eyes like he was searching for the older man’s permission when they both knew that the lines had been crossed far before they ever got so close. Johnny could hear the sound of his own breathing, anxious and heavy. Morrissey, the house, all of Manchester had gone perfectly silent as he prepared to close the gap between them and commit to what he had been dreaming about for months.

Morrissey licked his lips nervously, it was too daunting a task to be expected to put on a brave face in a situation like this. Unbelievable vulnerability. That’s all that there was to it. His expression gave him away entirely; thick eyebrows drawn together as anxious thoughts whirled around his head, slack jawed in awe of the heat of Johnny’s body against his own, but above all- so willing for the space between them to dissipate. To give in to pleasure. What Johnny said he wanted. What Morrissey absolutely desired in silence all along.

Johnny looked at him for a moment longer then kissed him. Johnny traced his fingers along Morrissey’s jaw as their lips brushed together, he could feel the stubble on Morrissey’s cheek and his flushed face as Morrissey kissed him back. Morrissey’s cupid bow lips parted with a sigh, and the kiss deepened as Johnny moved his hands along his back, pulling him closer, yearning for more. It didn’t feel strange, being like this with Morrissey. He had been staring at his lips and the curve of his neck and his sharp jawline for months. It was like a long awaited dream finally coming to fruition.

He was pressing his thigh in between Morrissey’s legs in attempt to get closer when Morrissey put his hands on Johnny’s shoulders and leaned back after a moment, appraising the younger man warily. Johnny took a deep breath, trying to settle his spinning head. He felt drunk, but he hadn’t touched a drop all day. Morrissey’s eyes were darker, a deep endless blue. He looked nervous, flushed and shaky. It was completely endearing.

“You’re a good kisser,” Johnny noted breathlessly. "I thought you would be."

Morrissey didn’t smile. He moved his fingers through the hair on the back of Johnny’s head and looked away from the guitarist. Johnny leaned closer. He loved the feeling of Morrissey’s touch, so light and loving. “I don’t think I should…” Morrissey muttered. But he didn’t try to pull away.

Johnny caught Morrissey’s hand in his, holding his eyes carefully. “I don’t think we should be denying ourselves from having what we want,” Johnny said. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not interesting in trying to pretend like this isn’t happening anymore.”

“And what’ll happen? To the group? To you?” Morrissey said callously. He stopped before including himself in the list of potential casualties, unable to bear the thought when Johnny was looking at him from underneath his eyelashes like that.

“Steven,” Johnny said softly. He could see Morrissey’s expression tighten at the sound of his Christian name, but it was the intent the guitarist was going for. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I don’t know how to make that any clearer.”

Morrissey looked down for a moment, unable to meet Johnny’s eyes. He thought about the tender way that Johnny looked at him when they were writing together, how carefully and thoughtfully he listened and interacted with him. Everything had meaning now that Johnny was in his life. He couldn’t deny the feelings, or the desire that stemmed from being with him. How right it felt to be together, how everything clicked with them. It was almost automatic, from the very first day- exactly what he was looking for all along.

“I don’t know why I’m trying to stop you,” Morrissey admitted. “Just…Nerves, I suppose.” He opened his mouth to say he couldn’t think of the last time he’d been with someone, because it had been at least a year and a half, but he didn’t want Johnny to be thinking about that.

“Nothing to worry about, love,” Johnny murmured, stepping closer. “Do you want to do this? We don’t- if you don’t want- ah, I’m not completely making this up- am I?”

“Of course not,” Morrissey breathed. He felt lighter, less in his head now that there had been some clarity. He smiled and wound his arms around Johnny more tightly, feeling Johnny’s hands move over his waist. He dropped his head shyly and kissed Johnny on the cheek, and felt the younger man smile.

“I am completely enamored with you, but I must admit- I thought I was being discreet about it.”

Johnny laughed under his breath turned his face to meet Morrissey’s lips. He leaned against him, releasing himself into the kiss. He could feel Morrissey’s body pressed up against him fully, and hear his breath catch in his throat as Johnny traced his tongue along his bottom lip. They kissed deeply, every inch of their bodies together, hot and needy movements between them as they moved together.

“What do you…What do you want?” Johnny asked. 

“To stop standing around in your kitchen and go upstairs would be the best option, I think,” Morrissey said evenly.

Johnny intertwined their hands and led him upstairs to his bedroom, shedding his jacket and his shoes once they crossed the threshold. Morrissey could smell Angie’s perfume in the air and saw her makeup lined on the vanity, and did not allow himself to look away from the realities of what was happening. He turned and watched Johnny rid himself of his sweater and the younger man froze for a moment, unable to think of what to say. He didn’t know what Morrissey wanted, what he was thinking, or how he felt. He sincerely doubted that he’d tell him the truth if he even dared to ask.

“Is- is everything alright?” Johnny asked. He hated the sound of his own voice in such a tender moment, too loud and without any grace or cleverness.

“Yes. Come over here,” Morrissey replied.

He sat on the edge of Johnny’s bed and pulled the younger man close to him, running his hands along the guitarist’s sides. Johnny held Morrissey’s head in his hands and kissed him gently, until Morrissey opened his mouth to taste the younger man- sweet and vaguely familiar, and Johnny gasped and pressed himself against him closer. Morrissey broke the kiss and licked his lips again, smiling brightly at the guitarist.

He stood and turned Johnny towards the bed and took off his shoes and his sweater. They kissed eagerly, rolling around together on the bed. Johnny trailed kisses along the singer’s jawline and down his neck, brushing his face against his stubble, laughing at the feel of it. He was a man indeed. He could feel Morrissey’s cock nudge against him through his jeans when he intertwined their legs, and slowly worked towards undressing him.

Morrissey moved his hands under the guitarist’s shirt, fingers running over his ribs and his narrow hips, pulling at his waist to tug him closer for another kiss. “Get rid of the shirt,” Morrissey whispered against his lips.

Johnny’s heart jumped at the words, and he sat up and pulled of his shirt quickly, smiling when Morrissey pushed him back against the mattress. Then Morrissey was straddling his thighs and bending over him, kissing him on the lips and then his neck, unreserved and completely in control of him. The room was growing darker in the shifting light, which only empowered the singer further. He moved his hands along Johnny’s body and kissed across his chest, open-mouthed and overflowing with desire.

“That feels so good,” Johnny murmured, running his fingers through the singer’s hair. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the person kissing him or simply the intensity of the moment, but leaned towards the former. Morrissey chuckled and bit at his collarbone, making Johnny gasp and swear, his voice low with lust, bucking his hips up against Morrissey in return.

“You do feel quite good,” Morrissey replied, his voice light and teasing. His gaze moved along Johnny’s torso to where his own body met with Johnny’s, thighs locked mercilessly at Johnny’s his hips, just hovering above the younger man’s erection.

“I presume you’re fully aware of just how badly I want you,” Johnny retorted. He sat up and jostled the singer slightly, and Morrissey shifted his weight to his knees, wrapping his arms around the guitarist’s neck as he tilted his head up for a kiss.

Morrissey kissed him softly in comparison to the way he moved over his upper body, looking at him seriously as the room filled with golden light of the setting sun. “It doesn’t hurt to be shown how much,” Morrissey said.

Johnny nodded and kissed him back, completely prepared to do anything he could to make his feelings for his partner clear. Whatever he didn’t know about the singer’s previous experiences or the thoughts that swirled through his brilliant mind were irrelevant in this moment. It was another opportunity to give the Morrissey everything he wanted, now, intertwined in bed as they were- in every way possible.

“I do want to show you,” Johnny said. “I will- if you want me to,” he trailed off with just a hint of nervousness, ready to lay himself bare for his partner. He put his hand on Morrissey’s forearms and untangled the his arms from around him, leading Morrissey’s hands down his body to his waist.

“I’ll let you make the decision of whether or not you want to find out,” Johnny said softly. He wasn’t trying to pressure him, or back him into a corner. He was just as uncertain as Morrissey, unsure where or when the lines between the two of them blurred.

Morrissey’s hands trembled as he reached down to undo Johnny’s jeans, feeling the heat of his body as he tugged at the fabric, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper. Johnny laid back against the bed and pushed the pillows underneath his head, lifting his hips to aid the process as Morrissey eased his tight jeans off of him. His cock was clearly visible beneath tight black briefs. When he got back onto the bed Johnny pulled him on top of him, spreading his legs so Morrissey would lie between them, pressing their bodies together flush.

“Ah, your shirt, Moz,” Johnny said shyly. He could see how Morrissey was looking him over and felt unusually self-conscious, his face growing flushed under the singer’s gaze.

“Yes, sorry,” he muttered. “Just a bit distracted by the prospect of my guitarist naked,” he laughed, ducking his head shyly. He slipped out of his t-shirt and tossed it on the floor next to the rest of Johnny’s clothes. Johnny tugged him closer and Morrissey lowered himself on top of him, just barely registering the sensation of Johnny’s cock pressing up against him before he was being turned over on the bed, with Johnny now on top of him and in control of the situation.

Johnny leaned in and kissed him deeply as Morrissey wrapped him up in his arms, their bodies as close as possible, kissing hard and moving together. Whenever they broke apart their faces remained an less than an inch apart, breathing raggedly into each other’s mouths, running their hands over every inch of each other’s bodies. Johnny leaned back for a moment and pressed his forehead against Morrissey’s, looking carefully into his eyes. The singer’s pupils were blown wide in arousal, his soft lips kissed to the point of redness. Morrissey seemed to be nodding before Johnny even made a move, ready for whatever was next. He trusted his partner completely, and Johnny wanted to do everything he could to not let him down.

Johnny kissed him on the lips again, groaning against Morrissey’s lips as the singer grasped his hips, his fingers rubbing along his hipbones teasingly. Johnny started kissing his neck, sucking at his delicate skin until Morrissey turned his head away from him and moaned. He moved on, kissing his freckled shoulders and his collarbone, shifting down his chest until he could encircle one of his hardened nipples with his tongue, drawing the sensitive flesh into his mouth gently. Morrissey breathed in sharply, his grip on the guitarist’s hip tightening. Johnny repeated the process on the other nipple, kissing him playfully in-between, fully aware of how Morrissey was starting to raise his hips and grind his clothed erection against Johnny’s body, eager for contact. Johnny moved back up to meet Morrissey’s lips again and Morrissey kissed him back hard, moaning into the kiss and moving against Johnny needily.

“Fuck,” Johnny gasped.

He rolled onto his side and Morrissey went on top, finding his partner’s lips again. Johnny could hear the way that Morrissey’s breath was heaving at the contact between their bodies, so desperate for friction between them, and lined their hips up so that his cock was pressed flush against his, his erection rubbing against him through his jeans with every movement. When Johnny thrusted up against him Morrissey rolled his hips and grinded on his cock in response, breathing heavily. He moved back after hearing Johnny gasp again, embarrassed, dropping his head.

“I’m sorry. I’m being demanding,” Morrissey said quickly. He went to roll onto his side again to give Johnny some space, but the guitarist grabbed his shoulders.

“No- don’t- I don’t want you to stop,” Johnny said breathlessly.

“D’you…Would you want…ah,” Morrissey started, moaning as the guitarist kissed his neck and thrusted against him.

“Yes,” Johnny said firmly. 

Morrissey kissed him again, tugging his lower lip between his teeth. Johnny groaned deep in his chest, his hands trailing along Morrissey’s body. He sat up and shifted his position, pausing for a moment to let out a deep breath to ward off nervousness as he moved his fingers along Morrissey’s chest, the scar on his stomach, the thin trail of dark hair that led down his body. Morrissey’s lips parted hungrily. He looked up at Johnny once more before nodding his agreement.

Johnny didn’t hesitate to unbutton Morrissey’s jeans, slipping them off past his thighs quickly. He was naked underneath, his cock at full aching hardness. Johnny’s jaw dropped as he moved along Morrissey’s body, and reached down took off his own underwear to stop himself from staring more. “Fucking gorgeous, baby,” Johnny said in a low voice.

He looked up at the singer again and moved to hold his cock at the base, admiring his full length before stroking him slowly. It felt strange to be touching anther man, to feel the hardness of his cock and know it was because of him- and to want more and more of him. Morrissey let out a soft moan, watching Johnny. His cock was pulsing, harder than he’d been in ages.

“Oh,” Morrissey breathed out as Johnny used one hand to cup his balls and the other to stroke him at a leisurely pace. Johnny leaned in and kissed Morrissey, groaning when Morrissey broke the kiss and sucked on his fingers before rubbing along the underside of Johnny’s cock, spreading the guitarist’s precum along his length. Johnny thrusted against Morrissey’s hand, their hard cocks rubbing together in the movement. Johnny kissed him messily, smiling when Morrissey chuckled huskily into the kiss.

“So hard,” Morrissey said under his breath. “I feel like a clumsy adolescent again.”

“I can tell you for certain that you don’t look it,” Johnny replied. He thrusted up against the singer, kissing his neck. “I want to make you cum,” Johnny said in a low voice. Morrissey looked at their bodies moving together and took a shaky breath. He couldn’t believe it was happening, his heart rate was skyrocketing with every touch.

“It’d be quite difficult not to,” Morrissey laughed. He was beginning to feel overwhelmed and over-stimulated, his mind racing. What did Johnny want? Could he tell how long it had been since he’d been with anyone? Was he good enough? He seriously doubted it.

“Steven? Are you okay?” Johnny asked breathlessly. His brown eyes were wide with concern in the dimly lit room. Morrissey nodded, trying to calm himself down.

“I want to be with you- but I don’t know if I’m supposed to,” Morrissey said.

“Don’t think. There’s no order to the universe, at least not one that I can see-“ Johnny said quickly. “But don’t you think this is supposed to be happening? I mean…The way that our lives have merged like this, changing everything…” Johnny took a breath, turning his face from Morrissey for a moment.  
“I think it feels more right than anything else ever will in my life,” he said quietly. “I really think that this is supposed to be happening to us.”

“You do?” Morrissey asked.

“I do. And not just because you’re naked and incredibly beautiful and in my bed. I think you can tell that the way we work together is something extraordinary- from the records and the way the group became successful so quickly. It wouldn’t have been like this if I were with anyone else… It’s something between only us. I never thought I would feel like this with you, but it couldn’t have been stopped- even if I wanted to…Which, I don’t, by the way.”

Morrissey took a breath, trying to stop the tears that had come to his eyes. He was not usually without words, but of course it would be Johnny who rendered him speechless. He reached out and touched Johnny’s face, turning him towards him, putting his fingers through the guitarists’s hair carefully. Johnny was flushed and embarrassed, but it felt good to bare himself like that to Morrissey. He had been wanting to for some time. Morrissey could feel the words on the tip of his tongue- I love you, I love you, I never want this with anyone else, I couldn’t do this without you, you’re the only reason I’ve made it to this- but remained silent, because they were still so early in their careers, and Johnny belonged to someone else.

“That was beautiful, Johnny.”

“I’m feeling very poetic tonight,” Johnny laughed. He turned towards Morrissey again, wrapping his arms around him. “You don’t have to want me in this way, though. I should’ve said that part. There’s no need to go any further if you have any reservations. I won’t mind it. I pushed you more than I should have, I think.”

“You’re the only person who would be capable of pushing me- but you haven’t gone too far at all,” Morrissey said quickly. “I want this. I want you… I very rarely feel this way with another person, so I will certainly accept any invitation to touch and be touched,” Morrissey laughed. He was playful now that he knew Johnny wasn’t operating under some ulterior motives, confident in his movements. He kissed Johnny on the lips and smiled as the younger man ran his hands along his back and gripped his arse, making Morrissey’s hips snap forward against his own, their bodies moving together. They rolled around on the bed and kissed some more, wandering hands moving over each other easily.

Morrissey pushed Johnny back against the mattress after a while and ran his hands along his body, skimming his fingers over bony hips, moving towards the erection jutting needily from his thin frame. Morrissey went slowly, seeing how Johnny clenched his jaw and watched him, eager to be touched. He moved his hand over the inside of Johnny’s thighs, and bit his lip, looking back up at Johnny, who was beginning to get desperate- not used to having to wait.

“Is there…Something you like? When you’re being touched?” Morrissey trailed off nervously and cleared his throat, trying to make his voice a bit more firm. He hated to sound so uncertain and inexperienced, but it had been years since he’d been so close with somebody.

“To be honest, I’ll like anything because it’s you doing it,” Johnny grinned. “Do what you’d do to yourself…” Johnny tried.

His stomach tightened with arousal at the thought of watching Morrissey touch himself, and made a mental note to do so soon. Morrissey nodded attentively and rubbed his hand along Johnny’s cock, slick with precum, and Johnny inhaled sharply. He rolled the guitarists’ balls in his hand, rubbing them while he began to stroke his cock, starting off slow, but soon quickening his pace as Johnny lifted his hips for more contact, moaning and breathing heavily, gripping the sheets. Morrissey’s mouth was open in shock as he moved his thumb over the head of Johnny’s cock, already leaking precum.

“Ahhh, yeah, that’s good,” Johnny said huskily. 

Morrissey laughed, feeling empowered by the compliments and the arousal obvious in Johnny’s voice. He shifted his position, kissing the inside of Johnny’s hip and rubbing his hands up Johnny’s torso. He could feel the younger man’s body tightening in anticipation, so he went slowly, trailing kisses down to his groin, sweeping along the smooth skin above his cock with his tongue, tasting his skin, salty and sweet with precum and sweat.

“Oh, Moz,” Johnny whispered. He was nearly shaking with suspense and arousal. Morrissey took him into his mouth slowly, swirling his tongue over the tip of his cock. He closed his lips over the head of his cock applied pressure with his mouth as he moved down further, listening to how Johnny breathed out heavily in response.

“Christ. Do that again, please,” Johnny said weakly. He was gripping the sheets again, watching in awe as Morrissey took him into his mouth, creating a slow rhythm over the head of his cock. He gasped loudly, and Morrissey pulled back again.  
He stroked Johnny’s cock and looked up at his partner, and Johnny’s breath huffed again at the sight before he could stop himself. Morrissey kissed along his cock and over his balls, making Johnny gasp at the feeling of Morrissey’s tongue pressing against his balls, tracing the outline of each testicle before taking them into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Johnny gasped. He was gasping and moaning every other moment, but he couldn’t help it. Morrissey started sucking Johnny off again, so steady in his movements that Johnny was panting with every stroke of his tongue. Morrissey’s nose brushed against the skin above his cock as he took in every inch of him. Johnny held his cock at the base to keep himself still as Morrissey took him in, and threaded his fingers in the singer’s thick hair, panting and gasping, trying to be gentle as Morrissey gave him the best head of his life. Morrissey’s hands moved to cup his arse, fingers trailing teasingly over him, every inch of his body soon becoming extremely sensitive to Morrissey’s every touch.

Morrissey started picking up his pace a bit, moving faster and pulling at Johnny’s hips to encourage him to move his hips with his mouth. Johnny put his other hand on the back of Morrissey’s head and thrusted his hips shallowly against the singer’s mouth, allowing himself to slip deeper into Morrissey’s throat, beautiful warmth and pressure overcoming him. “Oh, baby,” Johnny groaned. “Oh, Oh, ohhh.”

Morrissey pulled back again, catching his breath. Every time he took Johnny as deep as he could the guitarists’s breath caught in his throat with a gasp.

“Oh- you’re going to make me cum, Moz,” Johnny moaned.

Morrissey licked his lips thoughtfully and looked up at his partner, gauging his reaction. He cheeks were flushed, bringing color into his usually alabaster skin. Morrissey moved his hand over his own cock, he was still completely hard and dying for more after listening to Johnny’s beautiful moans, so eager to give his partner pleasure.

“Just a little bit longer,” Morrissey said softly.

It sounded like he was pleading the way that he said it, and Johnny felt his stomach tighten with arousal, almost ready to cum just by hearing Morrissey say it. Morrissey leaned over Johnny for a moment and kissed him on the lips. Johnny kissed back breathlessly, every nerve ending on fire. When Morrissey shifted back down his body he moved his tongue over his balls again, sucking at them and tugging them away from his body while using his hand on Johnny’s cock. Johnny gasped loudly let his head fall back against the pillow, his chest starting to heave in the effort to contain himself. Morrissey started sucking his cock again, steady in his movements as he could sense by Johnny’s body language that he was getting ready to cum. Johnny was panting, starting to move his hips with Morrissey’s mouth in desperation to reach the climax he had been trying to delay.

“Oh, Moz…Baby, please,” Johnny moaned.

“I’m gonna cum,” he gasped. His voice wavered with another moan, breathing heavily. His whole body tensed for a moment, and Morrissey pulled back slightly, using his hand with his mouth. He looked up at Johnny and found the younger man propping his head up to watch him, his mouth opening as he reached climax. Johnny moaned and sighed through the aftershocks, his body spasming with pleasure then relaxing blissfully as Morrissey swallowed his cum, releasing his cock gently when he was finished.

Johnny exhaled breathily and put his arm behind his head, watching Morrissey as the singer ran his hand along his own cock, looking down his body and biting his lip. “Would you let me touch you?” Johnny asked. He was still breathless, his voice soft with affection.

“Would I let you?” Morrissey repeated, trying not to laugh. “I’d love you to,” he said. “But you don’t have to, I might add.”

“I’ve never…” Johnny trailed off, sitting up. “I’ve never been with a man before,” he said quickly. “I’ve been attracted to men, but you’re the first man I’ve ever wanted to be with… It’s hard to not want to touch you- especially after what you just did to me.” He kissed Morrissey on the lips, trailing his fingers down the singer’s body for a moment, watching him jerk himself off. “Just bear with me,” Johnny murmured.

“I presumed I’d be the one saying that,” Morrissey laughed.

Johnny kissed him again, smiling, and had Morrissey lay down so he had free range over his partner’s body. He used his knee to spread Morrissey’s legs, and ran his hands along his smooth chest and stomach as he leaned in to kiss him again. He couldn’t stop smiling as he took Morrissey’s cock into his hand to find him impossibly hard and slick with precum. He must have enjoyed pleasing him, and it made Johnny glow with affection and attraction.

Morrissey’s legs twitched underneath him as Johnny touched him, and he threaded slender fingers into his hair, licking his lips. Johnny shifted his position and laid between his legs, kissing the inside of his thighs slowly. Morrissey’s body stiffened as Johnny went further, his tongue darting out to taste the precum that had smeared on his thigh.

“Johnny, you don’t have to,” Morrissey muttered.

“I’d like to try,” Johnny said, looking back up at the singer. “Do you not want me to?”

“I do want you to,” Morrissey chuckled.

“Then give me a chance,” Johnny said exasperatedly.

Morrissey was dully aware that he nearly five years older than Johnny, and wanted to make it clear that he didn’t want to pressure the guitarist into doing anything that he didn’t feel ready to do. Johnny was as untroubled as ever regardless, and kissed across his hips and his stomach, licking and biting at his hipbones and tailing his tongue along the v-shape of his hips down to his groin. Johnny licked along the underside of Morrissey’s cock and took the tip into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Morrissey breathed in shakily and put his hand on Johnny’s shoulder, feeling his partner experimentally take him deeper. Morrissey stretched his upper body and gasped, reaching for Johnny’s hand to place it at the base of his cock so he would incorporate his hand with his mouth. Johnny did so immediately, fast learner as he was. He focused on sucking on the top part of his cock and using his hand for the rest, alternating speeds, making Morrissey gasp and groan easily.

Johnny’s fingers were slick with spit and precum as he explored more of Morrissey’s body while sucking him off. He fondled his balls, which made Morrissey breathe heavily and moan, his hips raising slightly. Johnny went further, rubbing his thumb against his perineum slowly. He could hear Morrissey’s breath catch in his throat with a groan, and the muscles in his thigh flexed underneath him. Johnny tasted precum and was was flushed with the new discovery, eager to find out more. He pulled back from Morrissey’s cock and shifted down lower, kissing his balls and running his tongue over them gently. Morrissey whimpered, his hips raising again for more contact. Johnny used his hand to stroke him and swept his tongue over the skin between his balls and his arsehole, and Morrissey breathed out his name in a moan, unable to get anything else out.

Johnny moved back up to his cock and licked off the precum trailing along his length before moving to suck him off again, rubbing his fingers against his perineum and leading down to his arse slowly. Morrissey seemed to get off on the teasing, moaning and bucking his hips with more frequency as Johnny did it. Morrissey’s gasps got louder, and he breathed heavily as Johnny continued, nearing release.

“Ah, Johnny,” Morrissey moaned. His muscles were tightening with his impending orgasm. Johnny pulled back and used his hand, jerking him off quickly as Morrissey started moaning louder, letting his head fall back against the pillows. “Ohhh, ohhh,” Morrissey gasped, and he started to cum, trembling underneath Johnny as small bursts of cum landed on his stomach. Johnny stroked him once more and Morrissey groaned, covering his face with his arm.

Johnny could see him smiling, though, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. He leaned over him and kissed him on the lips, smiling as he caught him by surprise. “We’ll have to get you cleaned up,” Johnny noted. Morrissey nodded weakly, too exhausted to say anything besides a whisper of thanks as Johnny disappeared to the bathroom and came back with a wet facecloth. Morrissey sat up after he had cleaned up the mess he’d made, suddenly awkward and shy around Johnny. Johnny sat next to him on the edge of the bed and kissed his shoulder, looking over at Morrissey with wide eyes.

“I don’t know what to say,” Morrissey murmured.

“You don’t have to,” Johnny said softly. “That felt good, for me. All of it... Being with you. That’s all that I care about right now.”

“You’re right,” Morrissey conceded. He looked over at Johnny’s alarm clock and found that it was half past one in the morning, and sighed. “Christ, it's 1:30? I’d better go,” Morrissey said softly, thinking of Angie.

“What?” Johnny asked.

“I-I don’t think I should stay here,” Morrissey said sheepishly. He reached for his clothes and began to redress, looking around the bedroom that Johnny shared with Angie warily. “We shouldn’t have done that here,” Morrissey said, shaking his head. Johnny opened his mouth and then closed it again, smoothing his hand over the comforter folded at the end of the bed.

“I didn’t plan for it to happen this way, it just did,” Johnny said quietly.

“I know, Johnny,” Morrissey replied. He tied his shoes and shrugged his shoulders.

“But I’d hope you can understand why I wouldn’t want to stay. It’s nothing against you.”

“No, I know,” Johnny sighed. He tried to keep his mind clear, but Morrissey wasn’t helping. He reached for his underwear and jeans and slipped them on quickly, running his hand through his hair as Morrissey looked at him. “I don’t want you to sleep alone tonight, after all of this…” Johnny said. He looked at the floor, trying to think of what to say. He didn’t want to leave Morrissey with the wrong impression, but it was difficult to make it seem like anything other than what it was, and would ultimately always be. The two of them being together, and then Morrissey alone in cold sheets night after night. There was no other way around it.

“Could I come home with you?” Johnny asked.

“Why?” Morrissey laughed. “You really don’t have to.”

“Just let me spend the night with you,” Johnny said impatiently. “I mean to sleep,” he added, grinning. Morrissey shrugged and Johnny wrapped his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close so he could kiss the side of his head.

“I’ll get my keys,” Johnny smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

\- Johnny drove across the town in the darkness, his hand on Morrissey’s knee. They listened to the radio on low on the way to his apartment, and he watched Morrissey move through his house, courteously asking if he wanted anything. They moved to Morrissey’s bedroom, where he had been reading in bed when Johnny called him earlier in the day. It all seemed so far away now. Johnny looked over the lonely room where Morrissey spent much of his time, and felt his chest tighten when he looked at the spot in the sheets that the singer must sleep in every night, alone, the covers drawn back from him hastily getting out of bed to meet Johnny earlier that evening. 

Morrissey felt uneasy standing by the bed, unable to remember the last time he had invited anyone into his bedroom. It was a sacred space that he filled alone. Johnny sat on the edge of the bed and let out a deep breath, spreading his hands across the thick comforter. 

“I’m gonna, uh, shower,” Morrissey said softly. “I can give you some clothes to sleep in if you want to lay down.” 

He took his time in the shower, gathering his thoughts and allowing his mind to wander. When he returned to his room, he found Johnny nestled underneath his comforter, looking perfectly at ease in his bed. Morrissey stopped in the doorway and looked in on him, unable to hold back the embarrassed smile brimming with affection at the sight of him; wearing his clothes, laying in his bed. 

“Am I in your spot?” Johnny asked sleepily. He made to move over and Morrissey shook his head, shutting the door behind him.

“You’re not,” Morrissey said. He slid underneath he covers next to him, putting his arm behind his head in an attempt at casual behavior as he looked over at Johnny. 

“I was almost asleep,” Johnny yawned. “Your pillows smell like you…So comfortable…Warm and lovely, like.” He moved closer to the singer, running his fingers over his smooth chest. “I’m so glad I came back here with you,” he murmured. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Morrissey said quietly. 

Johnny kissed him on the lips and reached to turn the lights out, curling his body around Morrissey’s. Morrissey tried to take measured breaths, feeling the warmth of Johnny’s body, skin against skin. A thin arm was wound around his waist, and Johny’s face was nestled just above his shoulder. Morrissey’s mind was whirring. When was the last time someone had held him? He didn’t think anyone had ever held him all through the night in his life. 

“Let yourself unwind,” Johnny murmured in the dark. “I could use a good sleep.”

He kissed Morrissey’s bare shoulder and rested his face against his arm, breathing calmly and evenly. Morrissey tried to match his breathing pattern with Johnny’s, thinking of nothing else. He shifted closer to the warmth of Johnny’s body and let himself drift. 

When he opened his eyes, his room was full of light. He squinted, burrowing himself deeper under the covers, then noticed Johnny fumbling his his belt on the other side of room. 

“Are you arriving or departing?” Morrissey asked tiredly. 

Johnny loosened his belt and laid it on the chair with his jacket and his shirt, smiling over at the singer. “Arriving,” Johnny said. He nodded over to the nightstand, where there was a box from the bakery down the road and a to go cup of coffee. 

“Breakfast in bed? A lifelong dream finally achieved at long last,” Morrissey said, sitting up in bed. 

He ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes still bleary with sleep as he watched Johnny take off his jeans, wearing nothing underneath. His eyes moved over the guitarist’s wiry build slowly, the dull light of morning illuminating his profile. 

“See something you like?” Johnny grinned. 

“Yes,” Morrissey agreed. He was flushed easily, and dropped his head slightly as Johnny changed back into the trousers Morrissey had lent him the night before, cinching the drawstring tight around his thin waist. “It’s these cakes…” Morrissey continued, peering into the bakery box.

Johnny scoffed and crossed the room, looking into the box of cakes he had brought for the singer. He had known exactly what Morrissey would have wanted from the shop, and he had glowed with affection for him while he purchased them for him. 

“Morning, Mozzer,” Johnny said softly. 

Morrissey tilted his head back and met Johnny’s eyes, a pleased smile lighting up his handsome features. “Morning,” he answered. 

Johnny leaned in and kissed him briefly, brushing his hand over Morrissey’s cheek affectionately. “Sorry to run out while you were sleeping, but I had to grab a couple of necessities.” 

“’S alright,” Morrissey said through a yawn. “The cakes help, certainly.” 

“I’ll put the kettle on for you,” Johnny smiled. 

They ate breakfast in bed with the tea tray across their legs, lounging comfortably as the morning hours passed easily. 

“I was, uh, thinking about what you said last night, about not wanting to stay in my room…” Johnny started, clearing his throat. Morrissey took a cautious sip of his tea, looking down at the bedspread as the guitarist continued. “I don’t…” Johnny sighed, and moved the tea tray to the nightstand, sitting up against the headboard. “I don’t want you to think that you’ve caused any problems…” 

“That’s just not possible,” Morrissey muttered. 

“It’s got nothing to do with Angie, what’s going on here with us…” Johnny said quickly. “I love her, I do, but this is something that I’ve been feeling for a long time. I can’t keep going on like there was nothing happening, as if I didn’t feel this way about you…” 

“So that’s it? This was some sort of purging of desire for you? That’s a poorly thought-out experiment, I must say,” Morrissey replied. He couldn’t keep bitterness from finding its way into his usually even tone. 

“No, Steven- that’s not what I meant,” Johnny said. He bit at one of his fingernails and took a deep breath, looking away from the singer for a moment. “I need this to happen. In order to have any… Semblance of control over our partnership, my relationship with Angie, the group. I’ll go mad if I try to pretend any longer.” 

Morrissey put his empty tea cup on the nightstand and ran his fingers through his sleep-tousled hair, trying to failing to understand exactly what Johnny was asking of him. 

“I need to be with you for things to work, but the only way that I can is if it’s only between us,” Johnny said. “I love you. I’d do anything for you. I must’ve told you that a hundred times by now, but I really mean it.” 

Morrissey rubbed the back of his neck and huffed out a deep breath, blinking quickly to delay the rush of emotions that came from hearing the words he had always wanted to hear from Johnny, with a brand new interpretation of them. 

“I love you too,” Morrissey admitted. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Do you think that we can do this?” 

“I don’t see any other options,” Morrissey answered after a moment. He swallowed and rubbed his hand over his face, and took a deep breath. Johnny was watching his every movement carefully, unable to allow himself to realize that by giving in to his desire of being with Morrissey, he was closing a number of doors on the man that he loved in the process. 

“I can’t leave her, Steven… I’m sorry… I promised her this life just as much as I promised it to you,” Johnny said finally. “I don’t expect… Exclusivity from you. I don’t expect anything at all. I could only hope to feel… A fraction of the love that you put into our records,” he said. 

“I’ll see if I can manage it,” Morrissey muttered. 

“If you want me to leave you alone for a bit, I can,” Johnny said. “Give you some time to think. I’d hope the group will be able to soldier on even if you’d rather not take our partnership further,” Johnny said. He offered a brave smile, but his heart dropped at the possibility of Morrissey shutting him down. Johnny leaned past him and checked his watch, and took another deep breath. “I’ve got to go over Andy’s later on, but I could come back later… If you’d like.” 

“Yes,” Morrissey said. 

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Johnny asked. 

Morrissey ran his fingers through his hair and nodded, taking a deep breath in an attempt to compose himself. He wanted Johnny, he was sure of it. There was no one else he could see himself ever being with; that much had been made clear. 

“Yeah,” Morrissey said. “I want to do this.” 

Johnny grinned and patted his arm assuredly, sinking back against the mattress. They had managed to get the band together, to reach places they had always dreamed of, and now they could finally be together; taking hold of the chemistry and the love between them that powered the records had finally been realized. 

“I want this too,” Johnny said softly. 

He kissed Morrissey on the cheek and rubbed his hand along his arm, looking up at the older man carefully. “Do you mind lazing around in bed with me for a while then?” Johnny yawned. He turned onto his side and curled up next to the singer, nuzzling his face against his shoulder. 

“Did you not sleep well?” Morrissey asked. He had slept peacefully next to Johnny, and woke up feeling more well-rested than he had in a long time. The warm presence of his partner next to him assured him, and he had been glad to wake up next to him. 

“I felt great,” Johnny said. “I just want to stay still… Hold onto this feeling.” 

Morrissey pulled the covers up around them and wrapped Johnny up in his arms, holding him close. “So this is us now?” Morrissey asked. Johnny kissed across his freckled shoulders slowly. Morrissey kissed his hair and smiled, hugging him a little tighter to his chest.

They spent hours together talking and laughing, rolling around in Morrissey’s comfortable bed. When they broke apart, Johnny had to head out and meet with Andy, and Morrissey glowed for hours afterwards as he read letters and went about his day. Johnny felt good going around the rest of his day, and went a little overboard at the club that night with Andy. He was stumbling as he bounded up the steps to Morrissey’s flat, and he rapped his knuckles against the door smartly, running his hand through his hair and grinning as he watched Morrissey’s feet descend the stairs. 

“Oh. Hello, Johnny,” Morrissey said, like it was the most natural thing in the world to find his guitarist drunk on his doorstep. “Come in.”

His tone was of surprise, but his voice was warm. He smiled and blushed as Johnny stepped inside. Morrissey was wearing his glasses and holding a thick book, dressed in drawstring trousers, slippers, and an old t-shirt that clung tightly to his thin shoulders. Johnny shut the door behind him and leaned against it, glad to be supported by something steady for a moment. He wasn’t too drunk, but being around Morrissey, so visibly vulnerable and open to him, made his head spin with responsibility for the man that he loved so much.

“Can I kiss you?” Johnny asked. 

“Wha- yes, okay,” Morrissey laughed.

“Yeah?” Johnny asked. 

“Yeah.” 

Johnny put his hand on the back of Morrissey’s neck and pulled him closer, looking up into his eyes with a massive smile on his face. Morrissey was smiling too, and dropped his book onto the table next to his door, leaning into Johnny’s embrace. Their lips met softly, and Morrissey tilted his head to deepen the kiss and Johnny smiled. He could feel the heat of Morrissey’s flushed cheeks against his face, and he pulled Morrissey closer, until the older man’s body pinned him against the door. 

“I’ve been thinking about this since the moment I left,” Johnny said softly. 

“About me?” Morrissey asked. His voice cracked a little, and he blushed harder, letting his head drop shyly. Johnny craned his neck and kissed him on the cheek, running his fingers through the short hair at the back of his head. 

“About you… About us,” Johnny smiled. “I was so excited thinking about it all that I went a little too heavy out at the club.”

He kissed Morrissey on the lips again, and Morrissey kissed him back eagerly, but his mind moved to thinking about where Johnny had been, who he was with. It was none of his business, but he couldn’t help but twinge a bit with jealousy at the thought of Johnny; who was friends with everybody, out dancing and drinking and having a laugh. He could never let himself go in the way, except when he was with Johnny, a microphone in hand. 

“What were you drinking?” Morrissey asked. 

“Vodka,” Johnny replied. “You can’t taste it on me?” 

“Not yet,” Morrissey blushed. 

He leaned back in and kissed Johnny on the lips again, letting his hands move underneath the guitarist’s leather jacket and his shirt, trailing his fingers up his spine. Johnny shivered at the feeling of Morrissey’s warm hands against his cold skin, and felt blood rushing to his cock as he looked up at Morrissey’s profile, flushed and serious. He was trying, Johnny could tell, to go slow and be careful with his movements, but if he shifted his hands to his chest, Johnny would feel Morrissey’s heart pounding, unsure and anxious. Johnny felt protective of his partner, his heart was overflowing with love and affection for the man in front of him.

“Do you want to have a drink?” Morrissey asked. 

“If you’re having one, I’d love one,” Johnny grinned. He held Morrissey’s hand as he led the way to the living room, where they had sat so many times before; writing songs, talking, watching a bit of telly, having their tea, but never like this. 

“Gin?” Morrissey asked. 

“Ah, and just a bit of tonic,” Johnny said. He went over to Morrissey’s old record player, he knew Morrissey kept his nicer one upstairs in his office, and looked through what he had over in the shelves by the fireplace. The room was large and airy, and full of old furniture, too big for Morrissey, but he seemed to like it. Johnny put on a Leonard Cohen record and sat back against the couch, watching Morrissey return to the room carrying the bottle of gin, a bottle of tonic, and two glasses with ice. 

“Here, love,” Johnny said, getting up quickly to extract the glasses from his hands. 

Morrissey looked over to the record player as Johnny poured the drinks, a little too heavy with the gin, but he let him have it. They tapped glasses and drank, listening to the record. Morrissey was at ease in his presence, he was happy he came. He tried to push the away thoughts about what Johnny had been up to on his night out; he smelled like cigarettes and liquor, and his eyes were bright, his lashes were coated in mascara. 

“Did you have a good night?” Morrissey asked. 

Johnny considered the question, taking another sip of his drink. It felt good to still be drinking, to keep the night going. He had wanted to slip away and get back to Morrissey all evening, but thought that he should give him a bit of space. His mind moved, instead, to imagining Morrissey there with him at the club, stealing sips from his drinks when he thought he wasn’t looking, making jokes about the other people in the club, slipping onto the dance floor together and ignoring the rest of the world, just the two of them together through everything. 

“Was good to see some of the lads, but I were a bit distracted most of the time,” Johnny said. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you, to be honest.” 

Johnny moved closer to Morrissey, letting one of his hands slide down his thigh as he angled himself closer. Morrissey was sitting with one of his legs underneath him like a distracted schoolboy, his back against the arm of the couch. He made it easy for Johnny to get close, to let his eyes move over every inch of him. “I kept wishing you were there with me. Would you come out with me sometime?” 

“I would consider it, if you’d like me to.” 

“I would,” Johnny smiled. “I’d like to show you off a bit more.” 

“You don’t think people would ask questions?”

“Because I’m out with my bandmate?” Johnny asked. “We’re supposed to be together.” 

“Ah, right,” Morrissey smiled. His heart fluttered at the words. He reached out and put his arm around Johnny, ruffling his hair. “I’d like to go out with you some night, of course,” Morrissey said. “It’d be nice to see what it’s like to have the whole town’s eyes on me because of who I’m with.” 

“They’ll be looking at you,” Johnny said. 

“No, they’ll be looking at you,” Morrissey laughed. “You catch the eye in a certain way that I never could… Effortlessly good looking, always wearing the right thing, at the right place. Being seen with you in public a bit more might make me seem more hip than I actually am.” 

“You’re grand as you are, in your own way,” Johnny smiled. He leaned in a little and brushed his lips against Morrissey’s cheek, pausing to breathe him in. His face was smooth and he smelled of his lovely cologne, something earthy and warm that made Johnny’s body tingle with familiar feelings that being around Morrissey conjured. 

“You’ve shaved,” Johnny noted. He kissed along the singer’s jawline, letting his face brush against Morrissey’s smooth cheek. 

“I thought I’d clean myself up a bit for you,” Morrissey laughed. “It’s been a while since I’ve had to for anything but my own vainness.” 

“How long?” Johnny murmured. He tilted his head and kissed Morrissey’s neck lightly, moving his hand from Morrissey’s thigh to wrap around his waist. 

“Well over a year,” Morrissey answered. “Everything before was fleeting, unsubstantial…” His tone was rough despite the softness of his voice. He ran his fingers through his hair and Johnny leaned back, meeting his eyes warily. 

“It doesn’t matter, Mozzer.”

“It matters to me,” Morrissey said sharply. “I certainly wouldn’t recommend living like this to anyone… It was never by choice.” 

Johnny’s face dropped for a moment, and Morrissey took another sip of his drink to stop himself. He had been too harsh, too heavy for this kind of night, but he couldn’t help it. Johnny already knew the answers to most of the questions he wanted to ask about Morrissey’s personal history, it was obvious enough to nearly everyone that he was alone, that he almost always had been alone. 

“I’m sorry, Steven,” Johnny said, trying to be serious. “I don’t wanna upset you. I was just curious. You’ve always been so aloof about your life before the group. Even your life now… I don’t know half of what you get up to when I’m not around.” 

“It’s really not very interesting.” 

“I’d still like to know,” Johnny insisted. 

“I don’t know half of what you get up to either,” Morrissey said. 

“Most of it, you probably wouldn’t like,” Johnny grinned. 

He finished the rest of his drink and moved closer to the singer, putting his arms around him. “Drinking at every hour of the day, drugs on demand, constant music, all-night orgies… It’s tough work, being a guitar hero. But someone’s got to do it.” He kissed Morrissey’s neck again, sighing against his skin. “I’d bring you along for all of it, and all that is to come,” he assured him. 

Morrissey smiled and finished his drink, then put his hands on Johnny’s face and kissed him on the lips. “There really is nothing else quite like you,” Morrissey told him. 

“I say the same thing about you constantly,” Johnny laughed. 

They were both laughing and kissing as Morrissey pulled Johnny closer, longing to feel the younger man against him again. Johnny was shrugging off his leather jacket, feeling Morrissey’s hands underneath his shirt, running along his back. Johnny arched against his touch, pressing himself against Morrissey’s body, needing friction between them. They spent a while kissing and touching and talking, until Johnny pulled back, his mind made up. 

“I wanna go up to bed with you,” Johnny told him. “Roll around in the sheets for a bit, sleep in your bed, wake up with you again in the morning.” He moved his hand along Morrissey’s jawline and kissed him softly. “Can we do that? Would you mind me staying over another night?” 

“Of course I don’t mind,” Morrissey said. He was shocked at the idea of it. All he could think of was ways to keep it going, to keep Johnny under his arm, always within reach. He knew he’d never be able to have Johnny as much as he wanted; be it physically or emotionally. He belonged to someone else first. It was a hard pill to swallow, but having lived on scraps of meaningless affection for some twenty-four years, he would take what Johnny offered him without hesitation. 

Morrissey led the way back up to his bedroom. Johnny took a quick shower, so as to not make Morrissey’s nice bed smell like stale beer and cigarettes. Morrissey poured a new glass of gin and tonic for himself and gave Johnny another set of pajamas to change into, and his chest filled with warmth at the sight of Johnny in his clothes again, too big for his small frame, but completely endearing. 

“I’m glad you didn’t fall asleep on me,” Johnny said when he came back into the bedroom. 

“How could I?” Morrissey laughed. He made room for Johnny on the bed and Johnny sat close to him, reaching for his glass of gin so he could take a sip. 

“This is… Exactly what I wanted,” Johnny said. His whole body was warm and happy from being with Morrissey, just sitting in his bed with him, drinking a G&T. 

“Glad to be of assistance,” Morrissey replied. 

He took another sip of his drink and put it on the bedside table, turning back to his partner. He kissed Johnny on the lips, and Johnny smiled against his mouth, wrapping his arms around his waist. He put his hands under Morrissey’s thin cotton t-shirt, and Morrissey slipped it off over his head and took off his glasses, turning back to Johnny with a bemused smile as Johnny took off his shirt too. 

Morrissey moved his hands over Johnny’s torso lightly, his lips pressing against his neck and his shoulders as he pushed Johnny back against the mattress. “What were you thinking about doing while you were at the club?” Morrissey asked.

“Being with you,” Johnny said. He ran his hands along Morrissey’s back as the older man kissed his chest, and brought his fingers up through the hair on the back of his head. “Just like this.” 

“Yeah? Just like this?” Morrissey asked. He was smiling disbelievingly, his voice was husky with longing. 

“Maybe a little more,” Johnny agreed. 

Morrissey raised his head and kissed Johnny on the lips, then pulled back a moment, holding his eyes seriously. Johnny had to put his hands on the back of his neck to pull him in again for another kiss. He looked intense, his eyes burning like that. He couldn’t figure what Morrissey could be thinking about at a time like this other than to keep touching, to move closer together however possible. Johnny kept kissing him, moving to brush his lips over his ears and to suck at his neck, making Morrissey react. 

Johnny was quick to move towards pleasure. He pushed at Morrissey’s hips until his sweatpants began to slip down his narrow waist. Morrissey got the hint and they both moved towards undressing, unwilling to break apart during the process. Morrissey propped himself up on his elbows and Johnny’s eyes traveled along his body, still in awe of the sight before him. 

“So bloody handsome,” Johnny said softly. “How the fuck I managed not to jump you when we first met is a miracle.” 

“You didn’t even know me,” Morrissey laughed. 

“But I knew I was going to. I’d have done anything to get close to you.” 

“You can get as close as you’d like now,” Morrissey said. 

Johnny smiled and ran his hands along Morrissey’s bare thighs, licking his lips as Morrissey spread his legs further, accepting his touch readily. Johnny leaned in and kissed him again, slow and sweet. He could feel Morrissey grinning against his neck as they shifted positions, their hands moving all over each other. His hands drifted down Morrissey’s body comfortably, and brought his fingers up to his mouth briefly to wet them with his saliva and moved his hand along the head of Morrissey’s cock, listening to the immediate sigh of pleasure from his partner that followed. 

Morrissey kissed him deeply as Johnny touched him, moaning softly against his lips. Johnny pulled away and wet his fingers again, looking down as he closed his hand over Morrissey’s cock, jerking him off in even strokes. His eyes were wide, he knew, as he worked up his partner. He could barely wrap his mind around the fact that Morrissey not only loved him, but wanted to be with him in every way imaginable. He had scarcely believed, even in all his late night daydreams, that Morrissey would ever want to be involved sexually with him, but it was happening, and he was ready for anything. 

Johnny smiled and kissed Morrissey on the lips before wetting his fingers with his saliva again as Morrissey shifted his position, spreading his legs. He was kissing Morrissey’s neck as he stroked his cock, his hand moving lower to grasp his balls and rub two fingers against his entrance, nibbling at his earlobe as Morrissey breathed in shakily. Johnny leaned back slightly to look along the singer’s body and brushed his thumb against his perineum, as he had done last night to good reactions. 

Johnny slowly worked his fingers inside of his partner. He pushed past his opening gently and pulled out a few times, experimenting with what made him react. Morrissey was shy, gasping softly in response to whatever new thing Johnny tried. He heard ‘you can get as close as you’d like now’ ringing in his ears, and he was buzzing with arousal and energy despite the long hours of drinking. He made up his mind quickly that he was going to blow Morrissey’s mind, and he flipped the singer over onto his stomach, assuring him that he’d take good care of him. 

Johnny propped his partners’ arse up a bit and ran his hands along the back of his thighs, then up to grip his arse, rubbing his thumbs in broad strokes close to his entrance. Johnny brought his hand up to his mouth again and then rubbed his thumb across Morrissey’s entrance once more before sliding down and commencing to trail hot and heavy kisses from Morrissey’s thigh up along his arse, and he could just barely hear Morrissey start to breath heavily in anticipation, almost trembling as he waited, when Johnny moved his tongue over his entrance and began to lick him out. Morrissey moaned loudly and stretched his arms out as Johnny went to town, as finally, this was something familiar to him. He gave head like his life depended on it, not a single moment wasted or a gesture overlooked. 

He was rewarded by a constant stream of moans and gasps from Morrissey, and when Johnny paused to change his position a bit, Morrissey’s breath huffed out impatiently, ready for more. Johnny bit at his arse in retaliation, and Morrissey let out a sharp gasp, pushing himself back against Johnny. 

“Ah, let me have it, love,” Johnny told him. He gripped his partner’s arse hard, squeezing him to tease him a bit. He ran his tongue along his spine and his lower back, kissing him sloppily, letting his breath go over Morrissey’s delicate skin. Morrissey was breathless and flushed with pleasure, and Johnny took advantage of it, pressing kisses and trailing his tongue over every bit of flesh available. 

“Oh, Johnny,” Morrissey breathed out. “That feels so good.”

Johnny grinned and gripped his arse again, burying his face into him. Morrissey moaned and Johnny lifted him by his hips so that he was up on his knees. Morrissey buried his face into into a pillow but his moans were still very audible.

Johnny started fingering him in pauses of licking him out, and the way Morrissey moaned and pushed back against him made Johnny’s mind and his cock pulse with possibilities. Morrissey had reached down and started jerking himself off while Johnny pleasured him, and he moaned even more now, as Johnny curled his fingers inside of him. He’d had plenty of training with his hands to know exactly what do do with his fingers when the time came. 

“You’re driving me crazy, baby,” Johnny said after a particularly eager bit of moaning from his partner. He reached down and jerked himself off for a moment to take the edge off, because listening to Morrissey moan and writhe underneath him made him unbelievably hard. “I can hardly stand it,” Johnny continued. 

He raised himself up onto his knees and lined up his cock with Morrissey’s arse, letting himself rub the underside of his cock against Morrissey’s entrance in the heat of the moment with an eager groan. Morrissey moaned too, and moved his body with Johnny’s cock, feeling the heat of his hardness burn against him. It would’ve been easy for Johnny to slip it in, to not be careful with him because he was drunk and buzzing with adrenaline and hormones, but he knew Morrissey deserved better, so after he heard Morrissey moan invitingly, pressing back against his cock, he pulled back. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have,” Johnny murmured. 

“Johnny, I want you to,” Morrissey said. 

“Not tonight, honey. Any other time you want, I promise,” Johnny said.

“You’re killing me,” Morrissey complained, but he was laughing too. “I want you.” 

“I want you too,” Johnny grinned. “I thought I was making that clear.”

“I can’t last like this,” Morrissey groaned. 

“Come for me. Let me watch,” Johnny said. 

Morrissey rolled over onto his back as he worked towards his orgasm with Johnny’s fingers and mouth aiding the process. Morrissey put one of his arms behind his head and moved his hand along his cock quickly as Johnny fingered him, and by the time he was ready to come; with his muscles tensing, his body convulsing with the urge to reach climax, Johnny had started jerking himself off, getting off on watching Morrissey come undone. 

“Ohhh,” Morrissey gasped softly. “Johnny, baby.” He thrusted against his hand, his eyes finding Johnny’s lustful gaze as he started to cum. He arched slightly, his thighs twitching in release as he came on his stomach.

“Ah, fuck,” Johnny groaned. 

Morrissey was still gasping and breathing heavily through the aftershocks of climax, and Johnny couldn’t help but want to hear more of the same. He leaned in and licked the drops of cum that had landed on the thin trail of hair than led down the singer’s stomach, and Morrissey groaned his approval, smiling bashfully as Johnny grinned, pressing a kiss against his skin. They switched positions and Morrissey finished Johnny off, using his hand as Johnny moaned underneath him, panting until he went over the edge. 

“Oh, fuck. Mmmm, Mozzer, yeah,” Johnny moaned through his orgasm, grinning and in awe in his pleasure. 

“Ah, I needed that,” Johnny laughed. Morrissey smiled and copied the way Johnny had cleaned him up post-orgasm, licking off the cum that he landed on his stomach and chest. 

Johnny was grinning as he lit a cigarette, bounding out of his partner’s bed to open a window and clean up for bed. Morrissey was finishing his gin and tonic, watching Johnny move around his room with a smile. He found a box of new toothbrushes for Johnny and they took turns at the sink, rinsing up and cleaning themselves off. Johnny had straightened his sheets while Morrissey used the mouthwash, and Morrissey beamed as they got back into bed together. It was the beginning of what Morrissey had always wanted, and all he had to do was ignore the intrusive thoughts about how long it would last as Johnny fell asleep in his arms again.


	3. Chapter 3

“You said this is your first time?” Johnny repeated softly.

He ran his fingers along his partner’s sides and shyly met his gaze. It hadn’t been what he was expecting. None of it really was. Every meeting between the pair was culminating towards something much bigger than the two of them. They came together in a moment of desperation, each of them nearing the end of their ropes, and their union was the starting point they had been searching for.

“My first time with a man?” Morrissey asked. He breathed in sharply as Johnny’s thumbs brushed along his hipbones. “No.”

Johnny swallowed, looking down at their intertwined bodies. Hearing himself being referred to as a man made his head swim slightly, but he reckoned it was mostly the champagne. He was nineteen years old and embarking on something that would shape the rest of his life.

“I said it’s my first time with someone I care about," Morrissey corrected him. He put his fingers through his hair and looked over the guitarist critically, bracing for his reaction.

“What you meant to say is that it’s your first time with someone you love," Johnny said. “That way I can remind you that I love you too,” Johnny told him matter-of-factly.

“Yes, you’re right,” Morrissey admitted.

His cheeks colored with blush, but it was more of anticipation than humiliation. Johnny had a way about him that made all of Morrissey’s inexperience, the abundance that he didn’t know how to do or what to say- feel perfectly acceptable. It was his nature; catholic guilt and working class upbringing that had taught him to withdraw and rebuke himself for what he deemed to be his shortcomings. The habitual regret and abstinence from all things that brought pleasure had blissfully passed over Johnny’s brilliant mind, and Morrissey was beginning to understand his partner’s unyielding and endlessly receptive temperament as a result.

“It’s the first time I’ve ever been with someone who loves me,” Morrissey repeated.

The words hung in the air, a moment that would catch in both of their minds as long as they lived. It wasn’t the first time they’d said it; there had been drunken nights and passionate murmurs in the the heat of the moment, but there was a heaviness in their words, the looks they shared, that washed over everything, making things feel more irrevocable than ever. Johnny had never been one to balk at the edge of the abyss. He gave everything. The guitarist grinned and Morrissey smiled back, embarrassed and exasperated, pulling Johnny against him.

Johnny leaned in and kissed him softly, and Morrissey blinked to delay the sudden wave of emotion as the weight of their words made their mark. It was the beginning of something that would never and could never end for him. Johnny held him tightly for a moment then moved to kiss his neck. Morrissey let his head fall back against the pillows and looked around Johnny’s cramped attic bedroom like he’d never seen it before, the whole room alight with love and the warm fragrance of springtime, 1983, as Johnny spread his legs with his knee, pushing the bedsheets aside. His life was beginning again.

“Can I?” Johnny asked. He looked along Morrissey’s body longingly, calloused hands moving along his partner’s sides.

“Yes,” Morrissey murmured. He felt his heart beating faster. “Please. Go ahead.”

Johnny took a breath and then leaned in, his lips moving slowly over the singer's shoulders, his collarbone, his chest. There as something about him that pulled Johnny in; not only a shared drive for creating intelligent pop music and serious works of art, but an aesthetic and political quality as well. They came from the same mold, Irish catholics, working class, connoisseur of records as a mode of survival. It made it easy for them understand one another. He was in Morrissey's orbit now, like others had been before him and would continue indefinitely, and he knew early on that there was nothing that he wouldn't have done for the man.

“I love the way that you look,” Johnny said into the silence of his room. “You’re flushed. You’re smiling. It’s like you’ve just discovered that being with another person feels good,” Johnny grinned.

“I have just very recently discovered that,” Morrissey laughed.

Johnny laughed and leaned in to kiss him again. He couldn’t help but admire everything about him. He was becoming accustomed to the feel of Morrissey’s body in his hands, his rangy frame, the scarce bit of hair that led down his chest and navel to his hardening cock. Being with Morrissey was different, much different from what he had with his longtime girlfriend, but he felt just as attracted- if not more, something he never would have expected, to the singer's stubborn personality and strikingly good looks, the way his clothes hung onto him, his soft tone of voice. He was so unlike the men and women Johnny had known before, and much unlike anyone that he had ever seen.

The record they had been listening to had ended, and the radio was shut off for once. Spring sunlight filtered through the open windows. Morrissey had found a match in every way imaginable with Johnny. It was all coming together- admittedly more than he had bargained for; he, who had nothing, who hardly expected to make it through the next day, let alone create the music he had imagined in vain, waiting for the chance to sing. With Johnny, things were unstoppable, and every step forward had the two of them falling into perfect harmony. Their union was absolutely ideal after all those days and nights yearning for something more, ready to do anything or else face his demise for the dreams he had harbored in silence since childhood. All at once, it was everything he had ever desired, in music and in love. It was fast, overwhelming, and more than he could handle, but he’d take it all while it lasted.

Johnny rubbed his hands along Morrissey's shoulders and his arms, looking along the singer's body, knowing he would come to memorize the feel of his hips in his hands, the stubble of his cheeks against his face or the side of his neck. Morrissey closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, feeling Johnny’s calloused hands move over his body. It wasn’t his first time, but it was the first time he could remember really wanting it. It was the first time it had felt right to be intimate with someone, because everything had finally clicked between him and another person after a number of false starts and humiliating failures; his own doing or otherwise. There had been so many years spent laying dormant, alone in his bedroom while the world went on without him- and now, finally, this. Johnny was everything he had wanted in a partner, both musically and intimately. Morrissey said his partner’s name with a sigh of desperation, immediately drawing the guitarist’s focus away from the path of attentive touches and kisses that Johnny was covering him with.

Johnny looked up at him and grinned, all youth and promise and a future ahead of him, and kissed Morrissey on the lips. His hands moved down Morrissey's body to his cock, and then their bodies moved together quickly, knowing looks and touches which cemented their chemistry. There were peaks and lulls as Johnny, with all the patience he could muster as a red-blooded nineteen year old male, learned what Morrissey wanted from him; what felt best, what elicited a shuddering intake of breath, what made his partner gasp underneath him. Johnny watched Morrissey’s lips, reddened from the frantic kisses the two of them had shared, part with a low gasp as his fingers moved inside of him slicked with lube from the bedside table, the gentle rhythm he had been working on finally hitting its target. He had started so slowly that Morrissey had to assure him that he was ready for more, but for a man who used his hands for a living, Johnny didn’t see how he could possibly rush things.

With Morrissey’s quiet and bashful admissions of instruction Johnny added another finger, his eyes widening as he watched the stoic older man become impossibly more attractive in his mounting pleasure; his inhibitions and self-consciousness gradually leaving him as the singer finally learned the coiled pleasure of another person’s touch. It was an aspect of total trust and devotion that Morrissey had never experienced in bed with another, and he couldn’t find the words to tell Johnny how glad he was for him to be the person he was with. His life, as pitiful as it sounded, had depended on Johnny’s arrival at his doorstep one fine May afternoon. He found it perfectly fitting that the first true pleasures of sex and love would come from the very same man. With his partner's legs up over his hips, Johnny eased into him slowly with a low gasp, and he heard Morrissey’s breath catch in his throat. Johnny looked up attentively and Morrissey saw how bright his partner’s eyes were, restraining himself from going any further to ensure he was ready. Morrissey pulled him closer and kissed him, a soft moan escaping him when Johnny rolled his hips.

Johnny’s stomach tightened with arousal when he heard Morrissey moan, so he repeated the same action experimentally, going slowly. He was tight, tighter than Johnny had thought possible, and the heat of his body around his cock made Johnny break out into goosebumps.

“Does it feel all right?” Johnny asked. His voice sounded timid, it was like losing his virginity all over again. He cleared his throat and bit his lip as he looked back at his partner.

“Yes,” Morrissey said shakily. It wasn’t very painful after all the time Johnny had spent warming him up, but the thudding of his heart against his chest made him all too aware of his inexperience. He put his hands on Johnny’s shoulders and Johnny leaned in closer, sliding a little deeper. Johnny groaned softly at that and Morrissey licked his lips. He loved hearing Johnny like that. He tried to get out of himself and focus on the man who was waiting quite patiently and supportively to fuck him, but it was a difficult task. Johnny kissed Morrissey’s neck, giving him some time to adjust, and Morrissey turned his face towards him to be kissed on the lips. Johnny couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were glassy, and stilled his hips.

“You’re sure you’re all right love?” Johnny asked. Morrissey nodded in response, closing his eyes for a moment. He was all right. He was better than all right. His life was blooming before him in every way imaginable.

“I’m in no rush,” Johnny assured him, looking along to where their bodies met. “In fact, I’d be pleased if we could do this all day.”

“I’m okay,” Morrissey murmured. “Only it feels like the first time again.”

“I was just thinking that myself,” Johnny agreed. He kissed Morrissey’s neck, and brushed his fingers through the singer’s hair, looking at him carefully. “I want it to be good for you. I wish you’d tell me what you want.”

Morrissey’s hands moved along over Johnny’s shoulder blades down his sides, pulling him in closer. For someone who had spent so much time around words, he found it incredibly difficult to vocalize his desires face to face. He kissed Johnny on the lips, and the guitarists’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to sort out what Morrissey wanted. He kept his eyes on his partner as he leaned forward to shift his weight from his knees to his arms, and he held onto Morrissey’s shoulders as he started thrusting, slow and deep. He heard Morrissey start to breathe more heavily, and the singer’s fingers dug into his shoulder blades. Johnny moved back slightly and moaned as he hit his stride, taking care to not go too deep or too hard. The last thing he wanted was to become careless in his eagerness. It meant too much for how he got with Angie sometimes, thrusting with reckless abandon, channeling all his pent-up energy into quick bouts of fucking. He had to mind himself. It was a relic from years before, when he had first begun going around with Angie; devoted, tender, meaning behind every touch. There had to be a standard of trust between two people in such early stages of intimacy, and he was careful to keep that in mind.

Johnny moaned, looking between their bodies as they moved together. Morrissey was moaning softly and biting his lip, and when Johnny looked up at him again he grabbed his face and kissed him hard, making Johnny groan against his lips as he was able to watch the singer’s long-dormant passion finally come to life. He kissed him again, and Morrissey’s head titled back against the pillows, his upper body flushed with his pleasure and one of his hands snaking down his body to touch himself. Johnny felt a wave of pleasure go through him, increased arousal making his stomach drop as he watched Morrissey experience the overwhelming pleasure that another person could help him feel.

"I really like hearing you,” Morrissey told him breathlessly. Every moan, gasp, and breathy sigh that Johnny let out made his body tense with arousal. He wanted more and more, he would take with both hands, for the first time in his life. 

“Oh, Steven, you’ve no idea how badly I’ve wanted you,” Johnny said.

He kissed him again, picking up the pace of his thrusting, and Morrissey moaned underneath him eagerly. Words had a profound effect on him, coupled with the long-awaited physical union from the man that he had so quickly and unexpectedly fallen in love with. There was no reason for him not to allow Johnny to celebrate his body, to wring every ounce of pleasure out of their relationship. He had waited long enough, and he didn’t how long these days would last. Johnny groaned again, and brought his face close to Morrissey’s so he could watch his lover start to come undone. It wasn’t like anything else. He could say that much. He never reached the way things felt with Morrissey in any aspect of his life afterwards. In retrospect, he wished he could tell him that. He’d have wanted it that way, and he got it, regardless of what Johnny had hoped for.

“Oh, Christ,” Morrissey gasped.

Johnny looked on in awe as their bodies moved together towards climax, looking over his partner with his jaw dropped. It was his moment of clarity with Morrissey. Perfect and haughty in his pleasure, his singer struggled to catch his breath between moans, every knowing tilt of hips with his thrusts brought Morrissey closer to his peak. When he finally let himself go over the edge, Morrissey trembled underneath him, long fingers moving rapidly along his length as he released- moaning softly and continuously. In the midst of Morrissey’s orgasm Johnny found himself unable to hold back any longer, and all it took was a couple of final, shallow thrusts as Morrissey brought himself off through his waves of pleasure. Morrissey could barely recognize that Johnny had reached orgasm at the sounds and the sights of his own undoing, and he closed his eyes, his chest heaving, as Johnny’s upper body pressed down against his, finally and completely spent.

“Johnny,” Morrissey whispered against the guitarist’s sweaty hair. He wrapped his arms around him and kissed the side of his head. “Thank you…” Johnny nodded, turning his head so he could look at his partner again. They had matching bright eyes, fully aware of what may become of them, yet uncaring all the same in light of the love that they shared.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the documentary "The Importance of Being Morrissey", Morrissey states that the time he was most depressed in his life after his teenage years was when he was in The Smiths. This chapter explores the difficulties of loving a depressed lover, the upswings and downswings that come with it. 
> 
> TW: depression, negative feelings towards sex and sexuality.

"I've really got to go," Johnny said. He put down his teacup and pushed back his chair, the sound of the old wooden legs scraping against the linoleum interrupting the silence of Morrissey's scarcely used kitchen. 

Morrissey didn't even raise his head at the sound. He had been despondent for days without reason, and it was the third time Johnny had been by in the last forty-eight hours, forever making up excuses to check up on his singer. Johnny put his hand on Morrissey's shoulder and his partner nodded mutely, as though he was hearing him on a delay. He was slow to get up and walk Johnny to the door, and incapable of bringing himself to say anything that would alert Johnny to the fact that he knew what horrible company he was, but he couldn't bear to be alone right now. 

At the door Johnny stopped and wrapped his arms around Morrissey, holding him tight and pressing his face against the singer's neck. It was all he could do to not beg him to speak, to vocalize whatever torment was consuming his brilliant mind. Morrissey's shoulders were rounded, he hadn't the energy to stand up straight any longer than necessary. He leaned into Johnny's embrace and felt childish for it, embarrassed of his ineptitude. He felt Johnny's hands rubbing along his shoulders and his back, and turned his face towards Johnny's neck. Johnny took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He often felt overcome with emotion in the responsibility that came with being in love with the man in front of him, and this was one of those moments where he found himself at a complete and utter loss for what to do or say to help him. 

Johnny took a step back and looked up at his lover, hazel eyes trained on distant blue ones. Johnny reached up and brushed one thumb along the singer's jawline, wishing he could make himself just stay. Nothing could really take him away from this, but he was beginning to develop a reputation for making plans and never following through with them. 

“Things’ll be all right,” Johnny broke in hesitantly. His voice was low and gruff. He couldn't help but feel like he was constantly saying the wrong thing to him. 

Morrissey nodded, but he didn't step back. He met Johnny's eyes shyly, and licked his lips. In the next moment his hands were cradling Johnny's head, and his lips pressed against Johnny's urgently, his tongue swiftly demanding entrance inside of Johnny's mouth, the younger man having frozen in surprise for a moment. Johnny wrapped his arms around him tightly and kissed him back as the older man pressed against him, his need overriding the voice in the back of his mind that told him he was needy and disparaging. Morrissey kissed him with enough passion and desperation to bring a dead man back to life, and Johnny, overwrought with tension, moaned against Morrissey's lips as his lover put everything that he could not say into a long, searing kiss that left Johnny dizzy with love. 

Johnny looked up at Morrissey in a daze as the older man leaned away, and the thought of his previously made plans was suddenly a thousand miles away. What did it mean? What was Morrissey trying to get through to him? There were so many questions that went without answers, so many things he didn't dare put to words. Johnny was still staring after him as Morrissey leaned across him and unlocked the front door to let him out, staring over Johnny's head to the sidewalk. 

"I'll be round tonight… I’ll use my key," Johnny managed to say. Morrissey's expression was mournful, the downturn of his lips brought a pang of guilt to Johnny instantly. He put his hand on Morrissey's arm for a moment and then looked away as he went outside, thoroughly confused. 

At half past ten Johnny was back in Morrissey's bedroom again, where he seemed, to Morrissey in his state of despondency, to be constantly going in and out of his bed. The pill bottle was on the nightstand and Morrissey was shirtless, unshaven, with color in his cheeks as Johnny walked in and sat on the edge of the bed, looking over his partner and wishing to understand. 

"Come to bed," Morrissey said quietly. 

"Do you want me to undress?" Johnny asked. 

"If you're not averse to it." 

"No, I wouldn't say that I am," Johnny said. He smiled brightly, his eyes flashing- having swallowed enough from a bottle of Remy Martin to be ready for wherever this night brought him. He took off everything except his briefs, for he could see the waistband of a pair of drawstring trousers peeking out from underneath the sheets Morrissey had drawn around himself. 

The singer turned onto his side and Johnny got into bed with him, their bodies molding together. Johnny was cold from the street and Morrissey's body was hot to the touch, burning up as Johnny pressed himself against him. "Christ," Johnny said. He shivered against the heat of his partner's body. Morrissey moved his hands along Johnny's back, pressing him closer, intertwining their legs until their bodies were flush. 

"I can't stop thinking of the way you kissed me when I was leaving," Johnny started. "You've had nothing to say to me for days and then you kiss me like that… You could've knocked me over with a feather." 

Morrissey put a hand through his hair, his eyes widening. "I have to do something," he declared. 

"Well, did it help to make me drive off with a hard-on?" Johnny asked. 

"I didn't make you go anywhere," Morrissey said crossly. 

“Would you just talk to me, love," Johnny pleaded. 

"Talking is the last thing I'd like to do right now," Morrissey replied. "I've spent my whole life trying to rationalize clinical depression, a chemical imbalance that I can do nothing about. I'm tired of the analysis. What I need is something to fill this void- I know now that the hole in the center will always remain. They say empty people have no choice but to fill themselves with one thing or the other; drink, pills, or sex. I must say; I've never been much for drink, and I've had enough pills."

"You're not empty, baby. You're not like that," Johnny said. His voice was choked. It was painful to listen to Morrissey talk about such things, his voice sounding increasingly distant, but it was the truth that he would tell no one but Johnny. "I see you come alive every night on stage." 

"That's all there is," Morrissey told him, frustrated. "I'm incapable in day-to-day life unless there's an outlet for me to try to direct all of this." 

"All right," Johnny said. "Tell me what I can do to help you." 

"Just let me have what I want," Morrissey replied. 

It had been an unfortunately late discovery for Morrissey that sex with the person he loved was an activity that could quiet his whirring mind for the most part, as he allowed himself to be drawn into the union of their bodies, focusing entirely on his partner and the pleasure of their being together. Johnny's very active sex drive had piqued his own arousal in turn, and he found himself desiring sex more than he ever had before. Yet his shame and the disquiet of his mind kept him from asking Johnny outright. It was not the mindless thrusting of senseless sex, but learning his body and his partner's body, and falling out of step with everything besides his lover for as long as it lasted. 

Johnny had been so concerned with Morrissey's latest bout of depression that he had scarcely touched him in the last week. That was all right for Johnny, as he regularly slept with both Morrissey and his girlfriend, but Morrissey felt ready to burst into flames. He needed to feel alive again. He needed to touch and be touched, to be a part of someone else's warmth. 

Johnny looked up at his lover cautiously, his eyebrows furrowed as he held his face between his hands. "I'm going to give you anything you want, baby," Johnny told him, and he meant it. He kissed along Morrissey's jawline, three days worth of stubble scraping against his lips. He kissed his neck slowly, sucking at the pale skin, and moved to kiss him on the lips lightly with his hands roaming across Morrissey's shoulders and his back. He waited until Morrissey started lifting his hips to try to create friction between their bodies to kiss him hard again, and slid one of his legs between Morrissey's thighs, giving the singer something to grind his hardening cock against while he kissed him. 

Morrissey's breath huffed out in relief when Johnny reached down to take off his pants, but his partner stopped and admired the impressive tent in his trousers that his cock was making first. Johnny palmed Morrissey's cock over the fabric before undressing him, and met Morrissey's eyes when he felt his hardness. "Oh, baby," Johnny said. "You've been ready for me a while, haven't you?" 

"Yes," Morrissey answered.

He put his hand on the back of Johnny's head and kissed him deeply, trying to pull Johnny against him. He was fully hard and aching for contact. Johnny thrusted against him while they kissed, and Morrissey moaned, pulling Johnny closer until their hips touched and they could rut against each other. Morrissey wasn't just content for a bit of dry humping and French kissing after being locked within his own mind for the last week. He felt ravenous, insatiable, and full of energy for the first time in a long time. 

He wrapped up Johnny in his arms and switched positions so Johnny was on his back against the mattress, his lover's body covering his own. Morrissey kissed him and kissed him again, tongues and lips and the bite of teeth against Johnny's neck that made their hips roll together. There was something carnal about the way Morrissey groaned against his collarbone, desperate for more. He moved down Johnny's body, kissing and touching across his chest and his stomach, letting out a shaky breath before pressing kisses to the delicate skin of Johnny's hip bones, making Johnny's hips buck with a gasp. 

Johnny watched the muscles of Morrissey's shoulders and upper back as his singer shifted his position further down his body. "Moz," Johnny said, a half-hearted warning that he didn't have to do what he was about to do. 

Morrissey ignored him and moved his hand along Johnny's cock, only looking up at his partner as he took the head of his cock into his mouth. Johnny leaned his head back against the headboard and watched Morrissey's lips move along his cock, his breathing stuttering when Morrissey took him all the way in. Morrissey met Johnny's moans in kind, listening to his partner hissing words of pleasure above his head while he sucked him off. 

"Yeah, ah, that's brilliant," Johnny told him, his fingers tangling into Morrissey's thick hair to help him keep rhythm. His pleasure doubled when he saw Morrissey had begun to work at his own cock while giving him head, and his hips bucked as he moaned, his eyes closing. The fact that Morrissey got off on giving him pleasure never failed to make Johnny impossibly harder, and his cock pulsed in his partner's mouth, precum dripping down his length as Morrissey pulled back to swirl his tongue over the head of his cock. 

"Oh, Moz," Johnny breathed, his fingers tightening their hold on the buzzed hair at the back of his singer's head. Johnny leaned in and kissed him, tasting himself on his tongue. He wrapped his arms around Morrissey and their cocks brushed together, and Morrissey gasped. He looked down and rolled his hips against Johnny's, his breath catching in his throat. He wasn't passive tonight, he was desperate. 

Johnny pushed him back against the bed and took the reigns for a turn, sucking him off slowly, the way he liked if he could manage a bit of patience. Morrissey moaned sweetly in response, his fingers combing through Johnny's dark hair as his lover's lips and tongue glided along his length. He began stretching him open with his fingers while he gave him head, slipping down to flick his tongue out against his balls, taking them into his mouth. Morrissey's moan and sharp intake of breath alerted him to his partner's heightened sensitivity, but Johnny wasn't satisfied until Morrissey was at his limit, gasping and trembling underneath him. He couldn't claim to understand what Morrissey was going through, or how a night of another person who knew and touched him, murmuring his devotion and his love, could help to heal him. 

Johnny went slow when he thrusted inside him, watching Morrissey's eyes close. "All right?" Johnny asked. He rubbed a hand along Morrissey's chest and took a breath, holding himself back. 

"Yes," Morrissey answered softly. "I can feel you." 

"I'd hope so, love," Johnny replied, smiling. He leaned in and kissed Morrissey's neck, brushing his face against his skin and kissing up to his ear. "Would you like more?" 

"Yes," Morrissey sighed. He put his arms around Johnny's neck as the younger man flexed his hips and, after a few tentative shallow thrusts, filled him completely. Morrissey's Cupid bow lips parted with a soft moan, and he hid his face in Johnny's neck, muffling the noises he was making as Johnny opened him up- every movement perfect, their bodies in sync. 

Johnny felt a great sense of power when he fucked Morrissey that he never tired of. No one else saw him shaking and wordless, finally human as he became flushed and exceedingly grateful for Johnny's ability to allow him his most carnal pleasures. The guitarist went slowly at first, keeping his arms around Morrissey and groaning his appreciation for another chance to take his lover apart. He knew when to speed up, feeling Morrissey’s long fingers wrapping around his biceps impatiently. He leaned back slightly, shifting his weight.

He looked along Morrissey’s body and up to the desperate, darkened eyes of his lover. He for a thought for a moment that this couldn’t possibly be helping, him fucking Morrissey, trying to ease something that he was only making worse. He shied from the thought when he watched Morrissey open himself up to him in every way imaginable, but if he’d been stronger and had better judgment, he never would’ve allowed himself so close in the first place, for he only brought more distress and sadness to the brilliant man who had admittedly consumed him entirely in a shockingly short span of time. 

He leaned in and pressed his forehead against Morrissey’s. They were eye-to-eye, but Morrissey didn’t notice the glassy look in Johnny’s eyes as he brought his hips forward again, harder and faster this time. Morrissey gasped, and closed his eyes. Johnny stared after him a moment longer as his thrusts made the bed creak beneath their bodies, hellbent for pleasure as an escape from everything. Morrissey took his every thrust gladly, his eyebrows furrowing as he moaned, biting his lip, pulling Johnny in to kiss him. Johnny was sweating and had to slow himself down, his head dropping against Morrissey’s shoulder as he tried to keep it together. 

“Would you go on top?” Johnny asked. 

He hadn’t quite thought about how long Morrissey could go for when he put his mind to it. Morrissey nodded, and Johnny flopped onto his back gamely, his breath coming out in a huff as Morrissey straddled him, his cock just as hard as he’d been when Johnny had been giving him head. Johnny reached out and touched him as Morrissey eased himself down onto his cock, steadying himself with one hand on Johnny’s shoulders. 

“Right, babe,” Johnny said approvingly, watching with his mouth open as his cock slowly moved through the tight ring of muscle into silky heat. Morrissey moved his fingers through Johnny’s hair, vulnerable and unable to get away as he went on top for a turn. His blue eyes widened for a moment, looking down at Johnny, and Johnny titled his head up so that Morrissey would kiss him, slow and deep. Johnny waited a beat before he placed a hand on Morrissey’s arse to encourage him to move, groaning against his partner’s lips as Morrissey got the message. 

Morrissey moved slowly raising himself up then moving back down, allowing himself to get used to it again, and Johnny groaned at the pace. He held off and then raised his hips up, driving his cock deeper. Morrissey leaned forward with a moan, his hands on either side of Johnny’s shoulders, and his own cock pressing against Johnny’s chest. He sighed, and Johnny kissed him, letting himself fuck him harder as Morrissey moaned against his lips. Morrissey took over again after some time, sitting up with his hands pressed against Johnny’s chest, riding his cock with such pace and sureness that Johnny had to grip the sheets with both hands, watching as Morrissey did what he would with him. 

“Fuck,” was all that Johnny could manage to utter between gasps. He gripped Morrissey’s waist, trying to slow him down, make the moment last. In response, Morrissey grabbed his forearms and pinned Johnny’s hands over his head, pressing him down against the mattress as he continued to ride his cock. Johnny’s jaw dropped at the demanding, self-assured man in front of him, getting everything out of Johnny as only he managed to do. 

“Christ, Steven,” Johnny groaned. He was shocked and loving it, his eyes wide as Morrissey kept going at a ruthless pace, his cock, slick with lube and precum, was rubbing rhythmically against Johnny’s abdomen with every thrust. Morrissey wasn’t usually dominant in bed with Johnny, but the change of roles turned Johnny on immensely. He took great pleasure in watching Morrissey take charge, knowing exactly what he wanted and needed for the first time in days. Morrissey’s breathing was stuttering between moans, and his head dropped as he slowed his thrusts. 

He let go of Johnny’s wrists, close to his peak, and couldn’t bring himself to look Johnny in the eyes. Johnny however, did not notice this, because he was close to coming himself, urged by the dominant streak of his lover. He wouldn’t have been able to stop himself if Morrissey kept going. Johnny put his hands on Morrissey’s hips again, albeit a bit tentatively, and grinned as he guided Morrissey to a well-earned orgasm. He thrusted into him steadily, reaching the brink of climax easily as Morrissey used his hand on himself, his chest heaving and his eyes closing as he moaned. Johnny couldn’t bring himself to say anything, or bring him in close as he usually did when he was about to finish- he just watched as Morrissey had no choice but to let his pleasure take him over, his climax coming in waves, his moans deep and resonant while Johnny’s cock pulsed inside of him, the guitarist finding his peak in his lover’s abundant pleasure. 

Johnny put his hand on Morrissey’s shoulder and pulled him down next to him as they caught their breath, hot and sweaty as the sounds of the city rolled by. On his side, Johnny put his hand on the back of Morrissey’s head to kiss him after a moment. Morrissey closed his eyes, feeling the sweat cooling on his skin. He felt suddenly disgusted and humiliated by the whole affair, and, realized as Johnny leaned in to kiss him, that he didn’t want to be near his lover- let alone anyone. It was as though all the carnal compulsions and great desire he felt moments ago belonged to another person. He turned his face away, wishing he could hide himself, hide his shame. 

“Moz,” Johnny murmured. He had that jelly-like feeling, done over in love. He tried to kiss his partner, but Morrissey pushed him away. Johnny paused a moment, his eyes inexplicably filling with tears, too many emotions flooding through him at once. 

“Please, don’t,” Morrissey said. He sat up, desperately looking for his trousers. His nakedness was repulsing him, but at least that part he was used to. He found them and pulled them on, turning away from his guitarist. 

“Where are you going?” Johnny asked, watching him look through his bureau drawers for a shirt. He pulled a sheet around his naked body, because Morrissey refused to look at him. The singer’s chest and his face were flushed, burning with shame he thought long since gone. “Could you sit here a moment?” 

“I shouldn’t have had you here… I don’t know where my mind’s gone,” he said quickly. 

“Moz, I came over myself,” Johnny replied. 

“Yes, well, I’d really like to be left alone,” Morrissey said. He gathered up Johnny’s clothes and deposited them on the bed, looking away from Johnny’s expression. He put his hand on the back of his neck instead, his chin jutting out in obvious discomfort. 

Johnny looked after him for a moment, trying and failing to understand once more. Morrissey wouldn’t or couldn’t look at him, so he felt he had no choice but to get dressed again, and no say in the matter of whether or not it was a good idea for his singer to be left alone. Dressed in his jeans and an undershirt again, Johnny leaned against the footboard of the bed, running his fingers through his sweaty hair. 

“What do you want to keep me away for?” Johnny asked. His voice was shaky, but he couldn’t help it- his nerves felt raw from a week of worry and a witness of inexplicable sorrow and self-dislike, now being personified in their sex life. “Are you ashamed of us now?” 

Morrissey looked away. He was no longer as embarrassed about his sex life; he had learned to accept and even crave, as he did tonight, the pleasure his body could give him with Johnny. He wished, perhaps, that he hadn’t been so demanding with Johnny tonight, but Johnny’s reactions had all been positive, so there was little to regret there. Shame, though, like any Irish Catholic: he could not deny. There was a sense of shame that had been prevalent in all of his previous sexual encounters, before Johnny. But the old catholic companion, that never-ending guilt, had never reared its head before when he was with the man that he was in love with. He had hurt Johnny by pushing him away, he could see it in his eyes, but he could offer no explanation. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Morrissey mumbled. “I don’t feel like myself.” 

“D’you want me to leave?” Johnny asked. His tone was sharp. 

“No, I don’t. I don’t really want to be alone… But I suppose it’d be better if you did.” 

“You could at least be honest, aye? You got off, so now I can fuck off,” Johnny said. He didn’t really believe the words as he said them, but his throat tightened in fear regardless. He’d seen Morrissey just throw people away; for silly reasons, for no reasons at all. He’d cancel a gig no bother, say no to promotional spots, turn away from things that make his life easier, make the group more successful, and his conscious remained clear. Would he be capable of doing the same thing to him, if the day ever came when he grew tired of the guitarist? 

“Is that how it is?” Johnny asked. 

“You know it’s not,” Morrissey said weakly. He sat on the edge of the bed next to Johnny and looked at the ground. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I can assure you it wasn’t something I felt I had control over.” 

Johnny sat down on the bed and let his back fall against the mattress, huffing out a sigh as he looked up at the ceiling. He was exhausted from his relationship with Morrissey, but it was beginning to seem like a permanent fixture. 

“It’s all right,” Johnny said softly. 

Morrissey put his hand on Johnny’s shoulder, but he’d spend the night tiptoeing around him, afraid to get too close to the person he loved, not knowing what it was that took up so much space in his mind. There was a sense of loss there, a splinter beginning to form in their love life, but they didn’t talk about it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few vignettes.

\- After they had finished, Johnny laid still for a long time, his head on Morrissey’s chest while the older man ran his hand along his upper back. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” Morrissey said, his voice hesitant as he broke the silence, disrupted the stillness of the moment. He almost wished he hadn't spoken at all so that he could have held onto things exactly as they were for a little while longer. 

“We have to stop this,” Johnny sighed. 

“No, tell me something nice,” Morrissey amended. 

“I am terribly in love with you,” Johnny said. He spoke in a tone of voice he only used in the bedroom, soft and intimate. 

“Much more appropriate." 

Johnny chuckled and kissed Morrissey's chest, pulling the blanket higher up around their intertwined bodies. His eyes closed, and he was almost asleep when he heard Morrissey ask him, with that familiar edge of panic in his quiet, smooth voice: “But you’ll tell me when the time comes, won’t you?” 

“Like that’ll be an easy conversation,” Johnny mumbled. 

“I’ll need you to tell me,” Morrissey reiterated. 

“Well, if that’s what you want-”

“Oh, love, you should know it’s not what I want at all,” Morrissey answered. 

Johnny looked up at him, his eyes wide. He felt so much then, such a sense of responsibility over him. There was hardly a moment that he wasn't aware of the power he held over his partner, professionally and personally. There were times when he felt dizzied by it, by how much Morrissey loved him, how totally devoted he was; but there was another side of that too, one that made him feel paralyzed with indecision and fear, not knowing which path he should take, and it was what he was faced with now. 

"I can't stop, if you were wondering. Not even if I wanted to," Johnny said softly. "I don't know what we're going to do." 

"Not a damn thing for as long as we can," Morrissey replied. 

"You know it's not going to work out that way," Johnny said. 

"I don't care," Morrissey said decisively. "Just tell me, and I won't stand in your way." 

Johnny figured that was all he could ask of him, just to accept things the way they would be when the day did come. He pulled Morrissey onto his side and put one of his legs between the older man's thighs, pressing up against his groin lightly, wishing to change the topic of conversation as soon as he could. He kissed Morrissey's neck deeply, feeling the singer's cock start to stiffen against his thigh, and then snaked a hand down between their bodies to test his hardness, which was steadily growing more firm. 

Morrissey moaned softly, his face pressed into Johnny's dark hair, breathing in the scent of him which he had come to know so well. He shifted his position and opened up his hips to give Johnny more space to touch him, looking down along their intertwined bodies to where Johnny's slender hand slowly moved along his cock. Johnny looked up at him, his eyes wide, his thin lips parted expectedly. 

"You should know I never want that day to come," Johnny told him. 

Morrissey nodded, his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip. He couldn't risk a verbal response without the possibility of his voice refusing to settle with Johnny's thumb circling the head of his cock, looking up at him with such youth, such innocence. He had no choice but to believe him. He needed to believe him. 

 

\- "I felt you so much today," Johnny murmured. "You were mesmerizing." 

They were still sweaty, not having had the time or the ability to wash up after finishing the gig, loading out their gear from the venue in freezing rain, then loading the gear into the van, and heading back to the scummy motel they were staying in, shivering, their sweat having cooled against their bodies. 

"You're a great charmer, you know, but that doesn't mean I believe everything that you say," Morrissey told him with a straight face. 

Johnny laughed, his hands moved underneath the flowing blouse the singer had worn on stage that night, over the sharp ridges of his hip bones and then up to his waist. "You were. You were too busy being wonderful to notice that I had my mouth open watching you all night," Johnny told him. He took a step closer and kissed Morrissey's neck, pushing his lower body against Morrissey's as he did so. Morrissey hummed in response, watching with interest as Johnny took off the beaded necklace he was wearing and placed it around his own neck. 

"You weren't looking at me," Morrissey said defensively. He blushed with pleasure at the thought of Johnny's eyes following him around the stage, and the younger man began to undo the buttons to open the singer's shirt. 

"How couldn't I? I adore you," Johnny told him. 

"To what extent?" Morrissey asked. 

"I may just show you," Johnny answered. 

He undid the last button on Morrissey's shirt and pushed it off of his shoulders to let it fall to their feet. He kissed Morrissey on the lips, his hands moving to grip the short buzzed hair at the back of his head as their bodies moved together. Morrissey sighed into the kiss, bunching Johnny's shirt in one of his hands. He was sweaty and worn from the show and worried about that as Johnny kept kissing him, pulling him closer hungrily. There were blotches of color and marks from fans grabbing him across Morrissey's chest, and Johnny pushed him back until his knees hit the bed and the singer laid propped up on his elbows while Johnny stood between his legs, looking over him. 

"I am a mess," Morrissey said apologetically. 

"I'm in love with you," Johnny replied. 

Johnny undressed slowly, he wanted Morrissey to watch him, to know the effect he had on him - how he had dominated his thoughts throughout the day when they had neither the time nor the space to be intimate in the way that he so longed for. When he came into the bed Morrissey wrapped his arms around the younger man's shoulders tightly, pulling him in as close as he could. It had been some months now, but the words still stopped him in his tracks. Time blurred as their bodies moved together, damp clothing pulled away to reveal skin that burned with blush, and an ardent desire to be touched at the end of a long day. 

 

\- "In the next life... Do you think you could try to find me a bit sooner?" Morrissey asked. 

Johnny was smoking a cigarette, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile as he turned his head to look at his partner, considering the offer.

"I don't think I could, love," Johnny said slowly.

His voice was thick with smoke, the lateness of the hour. His trousers and his sweater were somewhere on the floor, among discarded pillows and the disorder of living out of a suitcase on tour. "Those years were important for you... How else could you have come to know so firmly what it was you wanted?" 

"I could have found a way, and avoided a lot of suffering at the same time," Morrissey answered. "All that bad sex I could have avoided." 

"I do wish I could have paid more attention to you when we first met, when I was younger," Johnny admitted. "I wish I had known that you were out there, somewhere, waiting for the day to arrive."

"Would it have changed anything, really?" Morrissey inquired. 

He propped himself up on one elbow and took the cigarette from Johnny's thin fingers, drawing on it gently. Johnny leaned in and put his hand under Morrissey's chin after his singer had exhaled and kissed him, his thumb pressing against his lower lip for a moment after he leaned away, then he took his cigarette and sat back against the headboard again. 

"Don't smoke, darling," Johnny chided him gently. "I won't be held responsible for destroying your voice." 

"What about everything else?" Morrissey asked, raising his eyebrows. 

"That remains to be seen," Johnny said. He stubbed the rest of his cigarette out against the ashtray on the nightstand, and pulled Morrissey into his arms when he settled back against the pillows. "I don't know if it would have changed anything... Maybe it would have. Maybe I wouldn't have felt so isolated from everything, knowing who you were and who you would become." 

"And maybe you wouldn't have had to rely so staunchly on her," Morrissey said in a low voice. He didn't want to mention Johnny's wife by name. It didn't seem to be the correct thing to do. 

"Maybe," Johnny echoed, holding back a sigh. "I really don't know." 

His lips pressed against the side of Morrissey's head, and the singer draped an arm around his waist, holding him closely, and they laid without speaking. The life that the two of them had, if it could even be called that, happened in dressing rooms, a number of hotel rooms that spanned continents, in the back of the bus, in discreet corners of unpopular barrooms and restaurants. Could it have ever been any other way? It was simply too painful to consider such a thing. 

 

\- Johnny's fingernails dug into his hips tightly to hold him steady against the flurry of quick, hard thrusts; his breath against his singer's neck, smelling of cigarettes and alcohol, gasping and his teeth digging briefly into Morrissey's shoulder as he groaned with his the strain of his efforts. When he reached his peak he did so loudly and wildly, with a false sort of exuberance, his partner felt, like he wanted everyone to hear that he did exactly as he pleased, with whoever he wanted - because of who he was and what he had done. 

He pulled out and was panting as he stood to reach for the ever-present bottle of Remy Martin. He didn't notice or care when Morrissey turned over and laid back against the hotel bed, looking down his body to where his hand was wrapped at the base of his cock, fully erect and far from his own orgasm. Morrissey watched Johnny disdainfully as searched for his clothes and lit a cigarette, completely oblivious past his own needs. 

"Are you finished, then?" Morrissey managed to ask while Johnny dug around for clean clothes. 

"Christ, yes," Johnny replied, exasperated laughter evident in his tone. "Had you not heard me?" 

His smiled, and his cigarette dangled from his lips as he pulled on his briefs, his back to his partner. He looked over at him and took the cigarette from his mouth for a brief minute, combing his fingers through his hair to settle it on his head, one of the many steps he would go through to hide the evidence of their lovemaking before he left. 

"Did you not finish?" Johnny asked absentmindedly. His eyes were scanning the room, looking for where he had left his jeans. 

"Er, no," Morrissey replied. 

"Oh, I thought you had," Johnny said. He had spotted his jeans and was pulling them on, smoking away. 

"You're leaving?" Morrissey asked. 

Johnny was putting on his undershirt and his sweater, the familiar mischievous look in his eyes as he emerged from his oversized sweater with his dark hair mussed. "I have plans, love," Johnny explained.

"What am I supposed to do?" Morrissey asked petulantly. He was frowning as he looked down his body to his cock, feeling neglected and too impatient to pretend like he wasn't. 

"Have a wank. Or wait until later if you're so insistent on me being responsible for your orgasm," Johnny smiled. 

He put his hand under Morrissey's chin and kissed the dejected pout off of his lips, until Morrissey was straining against him, his lips parting breathily with a moan. Johnny broke the kiss and licked his lips, watching Morrissey move his hand over his cock. 

"There now, you'll be done in a minute," Johnny laughed. 

He kissed Morrissey again, his thumb pressing against the singer's bottom lip tantalizingly for a moment, making the older man look up at him expectantly, waiting for more. It was not forthcoming. Johnny reached for his watch on the nightstand and looked at it closely as he fastened it to his thin wrist. 

"Christ, I'm later than I thought," Johnny laughed, shaking his head. He pulled on his jean jacket and patted his pockets for his cigarettes and his wallet before he walked out. "I'll be seeing you, Mozzer," he said in parting. 

When the door shut behind him Morrissey leaned his back against the headboard, looking dejectedly at the ceiling. His desire had left with his lover. He looked around the hotel room they shared, shaking his head as if there was anyone there to notice. He ran himself a bath instead, and settled in with a book while Johnny went out clubbing. He didn't come back, and Morrissey couldn't even feign surprise. 

 

\- Johnny unlocked the door of Morrissey's hotel room to find his singer still asleep in bed. He checked his watch for the time, and they were meant to be at the venue for soundcheck in twenty minutes, after which Morrissey was slated for an interview with some magazine. He sat at the edge of the bed, looking over the curve of Morrissey's back and the sinewy muscles of his shoulders while the other man slept. His skin was pale against the dark hotel comforter, and the grey light from the windows provided even further contrast. 

Johnny leaned in and touched his lips against his shoulder, pressing a trail of soft kisses along his lover's back. He felt Morrissey shift sleepily underneath him, a soft sound of affirmation coming from against the pillows. 

"Darling, you've got to wake up," Johnny said against his upper back. 

"Not yet... Too early," Morrissey mumbled in response. 

Johnny smirked, pressing his face against the singer's skin. He kissed him again, his hands moving down Morrissey's side to his hip. "It's not, really," Johnny said. He sighed and skimmed one hand along Morrissey's back longingly. He wanted nothing more than to to undress and take Morrissey into his arms and hide away from a grey cold day, but there were things that had to be done, decisions they had both made. "We've got soundcheck. Then you've agreed to do an interview," Johnny said. 

"No, not another one," Morrissey groaned. 

"They can't get enough of you, love. I understand the issue completely," Johnny said. 

"If you meant that you'd take off your clothes and stay in bed with me," Morrissey told him, rolling over and running a hand through his mussed hair. 

"I'm fully prepared to devote a great number of days and nights assuring you of how much I mean it," Johnny said. He put his hand on the side of Morrissey's face and kissed him, intoxicated by the warmth of his body, the softness of his voice from sleep. 

"Starting now?" Morrissey asked. 

"Next week," Johnny amended. He forced himself to lean away from the older man before he could pull him any closer. "I'll add it to your calendar." 

Morrissey sighed as Johnny got up and turned away from him. 

 

\- There had been times when he hated him. Hated the mischief, the late nights, the clinging smell of her perfume on him, the feeling of his wedding band digging into his skin like he needed a reminder - the sharp words, how he knew him so completely, so thoroughly. 

They were standing in Morrissey's kitchen after working on a song together in the late hours of the evening, usually the time where Johnny would take his leave, get ready to go out for the night. It was another one of the pauses in their intimacy, something Johnny had insisted on in order to focus on his personal life outside of the group. Morrissey had never once been asked if the pause in intimacy made him focus any more or less. Johnny had been smoking a cigarette, eating clementines from the fruit bowl on the kitchen table, when an Elvis song that he knew Morrissey really loved came on over the radio. 

Johnny bit his lower lip and exhaled, looking at his singer expectantly. Morrissey was looking at the radio, something having gone soft in his eyes with recognition. Johnny held out his hand and Morrissey hesitated before placing his hand in the guitarist's. Johnny put his arm around Morrissey's waist and pulled their bodies together as they moved in small circles around the kitchen, a relic from happier days. Morrissey sighed as Johnny led him around. He was always at the other man's mercy. Johnny turned his head and kissed Morrissey's neck as the song began to fade out. 

"Johnny," Morrissey warned. All he could smell was citrus and cigarettes, and there was Johnny going against his own words yet again. 

"Act like you don't want it, go on," Johnny taunted. 

The younger man leaned back and looked Morrissey in the eyes. He didn't ask for permission before he kissed him, just pressed his lips against Morrissey's, hard, his hand gripping the closely buzzed hair on the back of the singer's head. When he pulled back, his breathing ragged, Morrissey turned his face away from him, his cheeks flushed a delicate pink. 

"Tell me you're done with me. Through with it all," Johnny said. "Make it easier for me, baby, please." His hand tightened reflexively in Morrissey's hair, and he made himself take a step away from him. 

"You'll always blame me," Morrissey remarked sadly. "How can I shoulder that burden?" A year ago, in the same situation, he had broken down in tears. He didn't feel like he was capable now. 

"I don't - I don't blame you," Johnny insisted. He moved back instinctively, flinching when Morrissey reached to touch his face. 

"I don't believe you," Morrissey murmured. 

"Ah, but you used to," Johnny said. He rubbed his eyes and reached for another cigarette. "I don't know when you stopped, but you did. I guess that's what happened." 

"But what's happened?" Morrissey asked. 

Johnny looked down, trying to ignite his cigarette but failing to produce the flame from his lighter. He clicked it three more times, avoiding Morrissey's eyes as long as he could, and when he finally got it lit, he rubbed his eyes as the smoke began to sting them. It was impossible that Morrissey couldn't be seeing what he was seeing, but the veil had been lifted for him.


End file.
